Morning Train
by FerryBerry
Summary: Post S4. Quinn has come to visit the trio living in the loft - and Rachel won't stop singing about it. Pezberry friendship.
1. Morning Train

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**A/N:** I wrote this a while ago on Tumblr, but I've been mulling over whether or not to put it in Drabbles or not. I ultimately decided that I _might_ add to it at some point.

**Morning Train  
><strong>

Santana had been woken up the same way for the last seven days. It was cute at first. Really. Even Santana could admit to that. But the second day had been the beginning of the end. And now she just wanted it to stop. She didn't know how Kurt wasn't on the verge of a breakdown like she was. Maybe he was just more patient. Maybe he was an even deeper sleeper. Maybe he was just used to how completely insane Rachel Berry was, but Santana definitely wasn't. And it had to stop.

She felt like she was in Groundhog Day. A really cheaply produced remake of it, where instead of smashing her radio because it wouldn't stop playing Sonny and Cher every goddamn morning, she wanted to smash Rachel's nose because she wouldn't stop singing Sheena Easton every goddamn morning.

And there it was today. The volume turned up, and Rachel was belting it to the whole goddamn world.

_My baby takes the morning train__  
><em>_He works from nine til five and then__  
><em>_He takes another home again__  
><em>_To find me waiting for him!_

Santana had given up on trying to muffle the sound of the chipper bellowing on day five. No amount of pillows, sheets, blankets, headphones, earmuffs, or hands could stop Rachel Berry's damn happy voice. Instead she just groaned and dragged herself out from her cavern to change and get ready for work, all to the sounds of:

_He takes me to a movie or to a restaurant__  
><em>_To go slow dancing, anything I want__  
><em>_Only when he's with me, I catch light__  
><em>_Only when he gives me, makes me feel all right_

Santana could've recited the words in her sleep by now. In fact, even as she was putting on her lipstick, she found herself mouthing along and almost punched herself in the face for it. The worst thing was - it didn't stop at one play through. No, Rachel started it over. Again. And again. Until she was done doing the dishes from making breakfast for Quinn. And then she hummed it while she was getting around for work and her classes.

And it had to stop. Santana didn't think Rachel was even aware of how obsessed she'd been, ever since Quinn started using up the train tickets before they expired or whatever. Every morning, she went off to the train for her classes up at Yale, and every evening, she came back to have dinner and stay over with them. It was all fine and dandy. In fact, it was kind of fun having Quinn around. She smirked at Santana's jokes when Kurt and Rachel just rolled their eyes or looked uncomfortable.

And Rachel had been fucking ecstatic for the last seven days. Even before she managed to convince Quinn to sleep in her bed instead of the couch, or else Santana would've assumed they were secretly screwing and they were just extremely quiet about it.

Rachel was on her third repeat of it by the time Santana emerged from her section of the loft.

_All day I think of him, dreaming of him constantly__  
><em>_I'm crazy mad for him and he's crazy mad for me__  
><em>_When he steps off that train, amazingly full of fight__  
><em>_Work all day to earn his pay, so we can play all night_

Just as she was about to go into the one hundred millionth repeat of the chorus this week, Santana smacked her thumb down on the off button on that goddamn iHome. Rachel spun around instantly, lower lip poking out so far she might as well have had an underbite, and stopped dancing with the plate she was drying off.

"I was singing to that!"

"I know. For the past eighty gazillion years."

Rachel rolled her eyes and resumed drying, so Santana felt it was safe to slip by to get her own breakfast, glancing toward the stove.

"So what'd you make her this morning?"

"Oh! Bacon and blueberry pancakes and a little granola with yogurt; there's still some leftover, do you want any?"

Santana waved a dismissive hand as she peered into the fridge. "Where's the flipping ham?"

"Oh, I packed Quinn a sandwich and salad for lunch, so we're out."

Santana wrinkled her nose. "Great."

She smacked the fridge door shut and scooped up a sizable stack of the leftover pancakes, maple syrup, and a fork before she plopped at the table to wolf it all down. It was good, even if it was stone cold by now. It had been this way for the past week, too. Not just the song, but extravagant breakfasts Quinn couldn't finish, and rather than send her with the leftovers for lunch, a sweet little extravagant lunch, too. Santana usually had ham left for her cheese and toast sandwiches, but Kurt would finish off the leftovers. He would just have to suffer with only bacon today, because Santana was hungry, and fucking A, Rachel was humming it _again_.

She glared. As hard as she could, until Rachel glanced at her.

"What?" So innocent.

"No more." Santana pointed her fork at Rachel's opening mouth. "No. No more of that song. I will break into your computer and delete it from your iTunes and the _internet_ if I have to, but no more of that song."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "I wasn't singing."

"No, but you were humming it. Like you've been for the past goddamn week. Seriously, are there no other songs about people taking trains? Because I will find them for you. I will find all of them, if you'll just stop with that song."

Rachel's lips pressed together briefly. "Have I really been singing it that often?"

Santana gaped. "YES! Every fucking morning ever since Quinn got here. Look, I know you're happy she's here and she's tucking you in at night or what the fuck ever you two do in there that makes you giggle so much, I don't want to know, but it needs to end. Even if you just switch it to…I don't know, 'Quinn's my fucking sunshine, my only sunshine,' I will be happy."

Those cheeks had turned ruddy red. "I didn't realize…"

"That you're in love with her? Well, recognize and find new songs to express it." Santana emphasized her point with a bite of cold pancake.

"I-I-I…I…"

Santana waited, unimpressed by Rachel's stammering and increased redness. She was going to turn purple soon. "Don't bother denying it. You've been cloud nine, seventh heaven, nightly multiple orgasms, trip to Disney World, autograph from Idina Menzel, first night on Broadway, Tony-award winning, vegan cake having, heels over head, toddler on a sugar high, dog with a bone, cat with a sparkling string, star-studded rainbow mane on a unicorn prancing through a field of sunflowers and heart balloons happy since she got here."

Rachel was gnawing on her lip, and she was definitely purple now. Almost violet. She cleared her throat. "Do me a favor?"

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Depends on the favor."

"Don't tell her?" She bit down on her lip again.

She pretended to consider that. "As long as you never, ever sing that song in my presence ever again, you got it."

"Absolutely. Promise. I'll take it off my iPod for a while."

Santana offered a hand. "Then you've got a deal."

Rachel shook it, smiled tentatively, and turned back to her dishes. Too bad, Santana pondered as she bit into her next pancake, if she did tell Quinn, they'd be making out in seconds. But hell, she'd had to live through that damn song on repeat for seven days, they could sort out their own problems.

"Santana?"

"Mm?"

"You're humming it."

"Ah, shit."


	2. Under Control

**Under Control**

Rachel had been trying very, _very_ hard to keep an eye on herself since the day Santana had called her out. It had only been three days, of course, but it already felt as if it had been an eternity. Not only was she making sure not to hum the song-which-must-not-be-named, for fear of Santana breaking their deal, or beating her over the head with her own iHome - or both - but she was also trying her damndest not to cross any lines with Quinn. Specifically, the friendship line.

Prior to her forced-upon revelation, it hadn't been an issue. Every touch, every cuddle, every smile had been easygoing, comfortable. Blissful, even. Now Rachel couldn't stop scrutinizing it, and it was hell. She constantly questioned herself. What was inappropriate and what wasn't? Was it okay to cuddle during a movie, or was that too date like? Was it all right to make Quinn her big breakfasts and big lunches, or was that too wife like? Should she still be sleeping in the same bed with Quinn, on the off chance that she did something in her sleep that she shouldn't?

Agony, agony, agony. And on top of it, _that_ song was now stuck in Rachel's head since her discovery, and while she hadn't been aware of it with the song-which-must-not-be-named, she was very painfully aware of it with this one. She tried not to hum it too often for Santana's sake, though she was finding it very difficult not to at the moment, when Quinn was in the shower and Rachel could hear _her_ singing Under Control.

_I turn my head_

_I can't shake the look you gave_

_And I'm good as dead_

_Cause oh, those eyes are all it takes_

_And all I want is you_

It was bad enough that the lyrics were incredibly appropriate for Rachel's situation, and then add Quinn's husky, angelic alto to it…

Rachel tried to shake her head of it when the shower turned off and a short while later, Quinn pushed the cloth separator aside as she pranced into Rachel's bedroom area in nothing but a bathrobe, still combing her short blonde hair. The brilliant smile she shot Rachel's way had her heart palpitating, an unconscious grin climbing onto her lips in turn until Quinn turned to the mirror to finish her hair. She was still singing, quietly now.

_Because I've kept my heart under control_

_But lately, all this time has taken its toll_

_Said I tried to, but I can't hold back what's deep in my soul_

_So darling, please forgive me_

_I want you and you'll just have to know_

Rachel could not, for the life of her, remember what she was doing with a pile of sheet music in her lap. Trying to practice, to memorize? Who knew? All that mattered was Quinn's sweet voice cooing from across the room while she combed out that hair, almost curly and golden when wet, and Rachel understood why Santana sometimes called her Goldilocks. Though at the moment, she thought the sunshine analogy was more appropriate, with her absent smile and her golden hair and little trails of water sliding down her porcelain skin, down her neck to her cleavage and down her long, strong legs.

Rachel was embarrassingly turned on just by looking at Quinn. But thankfully, a sniffle in the midst of one of the verses distracted her, and then Quinn set down the comb and turned to her - another sniffle.

"Mm. Maybe I should sleep on the couch for tonight," she hummed in her dulcet tones, and Rachel sat up with alarm.

"Why? Have I done something wrong? Is - "

Quinn laughed. "Rachel. You didn't do anything wrong, I only meant...I haven't been able to get rid of these sniffles all day and I know how you feel about being around sick people, so."

Rachel relaxed into her pillows. "Oh." She smoothed her hands over her boy shorts and bit on her bottom lip. "Well, are you okay? Do you need to take something? We have plenty of medicine in the bathroom cabinets and I could make you some tea to maybe loosen up your sinuses if you think it's a sinus problem, which it sounds like it might be from the way you're sniffling, and it'll also soothe your throat, although you don't sound like you have a sore throat or anything, but just in case, as a preemptive measure - oh, and we also have VapoRub! That'll help you sleep easier! We should rub that on you and you should take some NyQuil and you don't have to sleep on the couch; in fact, I insist you don't; that would be horrible for your sinuses and, well, if you'd rather sleep alone, _I'll_ sleep on the couch, but honestly, I'd rather be on hand in case you need me for anything. Let me go get the VapoRub and NyQuil and a glass of water and you just get comfortable."

Rachel patted the covers as she set aside her sheet music and popped up, marching back to the bathroom to dig through their cabinets. The room still steamed with the smell of citrus - the smell of Quinn - and Rachel was nearly derailed before she made it out to head to the kitchen for the promised glass of water. By the time she returned to the bedroom, Quinn was lying sideways on the bed, still in her bathrobe, singing again between sniffles.

_One of these days I'm gonna find myself a way_

_I'll find the courage and I'll find the grace_

_And I'm gonna know just what to say_

Rachel cleared her throat reluctantly before she trod forward, setting the VapoRub on the nightstand and clambering onto the bed next to Quinn to hand her the glass of water. "Here. You know, you should rest your voice if you think you're getting sick." She popped out the large green pills before she handed them over as well.

Much to her chagrin, Quinn only propped herself up on her elbows to take the pills and sip at her water, but she seemed to ignore Rachel's grimace in favor of smiling up at her.

"You're such a mother hen," she teased quietly, eyes dancing with delight.

Rachel blushed. "I am not a mother hen. I'm simply...concerned, for the wellbeing of my friend."

She nodded for emphasis, and Quinn handed off the water again before she plopped back onto the bed, snuffing once or twice. Her long, golden lashes batted lazily up at Rachel, and her pale chest peaked from the fluffy bathrobe, the tendons in her long neck sticking out in a way that made Rachel's mouth water with desire to lick and nip them. She set aside the water instead, exchanging it for the VapoRub.

"Put a little of this under your nose, and on your chest," she instructed, unscrewing the lid.

Quinn's lips puckered in a pout. "You do it. Please?" She sniffled.

Rachel narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You never want me to do anything for you…"

"That's not true."

"Name one thing you've ever _wanted_ me to do for you."

Quinn bit her lip. "I want you to apply the VapoRub for me." She smirked.

Rachel puffed, unable to resist a smile before she dabbed two finger pads in the rub and swiped under Quinn's nose. After another moment of hesitation, she took a more generous swab of the container and then, cautiously, started rubbing it over Quinn's exposed chest. And immediately decided that this was definitely over the friendship boundary and into the inappropriate area, to the point where she almost stopped herself. Almost.

But Quinn _had_ asked, and now, she looked so contented. Her eyes fluttered shut and her perfect pink lips curved in a gentle smile. Her breathing was easier - probably because of the VapoRub under her nose, but still. She was calmer, particularly as Rachel dipped her hands beneath the lapel of the bathrobe to reach over all over her smooth chest with the oily substance, even wiping a layer over her throat for good measure, and the shine of the rub on Quinn's pale chest only made matters that much worse - and better.

Rachel gulped in a breath. "Are you planning on changing into pajamas, by chance?"

When she only received a 'mmnnn' for an answer, Rachel glanced up abruptly to Quinn's closed eyes, her dropped lips, relaxed brow and jowls - she was fast asleep. Rachel flushed and stopped her rubbing, capping off the VapoRub again and setting it aside on the nightstand before she gathered up the covers from the head of the bed to wrap them backward over Quinn's tempting frame. She cuddled in carefully beneath the edge of it after she flicked off the lamp, both to keep herself warm and to be nearer to Quinn. Rachel couldn't help quietly singing up to her before she drifted away, too:

_All that I want to do is give up, give in, let this one stay where it is_

_But I don't suppose I will_


	3. Sick

**Sick**

Santana laughed the moment Rachel left her room the next morning. Even aside from the bedhead and wrinkled clothes, she looked like she had just spent a night in hell. Vacant stare, red cheeks, heavy bags under her eyes. She looked like shit.

"You look like shit."

Rachel grunted, ran a hand through her hair, and disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged, it was with tamer hair and a box of DayQuil, and Santana's eyebrow quirked as Rachel shuffled around her, filling a glass with bottled water. Santana smashed her breakfast sandwich together - finally, ham and cheese on toast again - and took a hunk out of it before she spoke again.

"You sick?"

Rachel shook her head, popping a couple slices of bread in the toaster. "No, Quinn had the sniffles last night. She sounds terrible this morning."

Santana nodded. But then Rachel just stared, catatonic, at the toaster, and it went on for so long - the unblinking vacant stare - Santana flicked her in the shoulder. Rachel grimaced, but said nothing.

"Okay, what the hell's wrong with you?"

Rachel shook her head again. "Nothing."

"You look like a zombie on Valium. Spill."

She shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Obviously. What's the matter? Still tortured over the wildly inappropriate love affair in your head?"

Rachel finally looked at Santana, blinking as though she was registering her presence for the first time. "What do you care? And why are you up so early?"

"I have an early shift on Saturdays, remember?" Santana snorted. "God, you're out of it. Now tell Auntie Tana all about your troubles. I need entertainment."

Rachel rolled her eyes, but after a moment, she mumbled, "Quinn slept in a bathrobe last night."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "Uh huh…"

"And the sash didn't exactly...stay tied...and she's been on top of me since four this morning so I couldn't really… It's not funny!" Rachel huffed.

Santana recovered enough to contradict her. "Yes, it is."

Rachel smacked the butter container on the counter, still puffing in annoyance as she slapped the knife across the freshly popped toast. "It is _not_. I shouldn't be… It's not okay for me to have that kind of reaction. I should react like any other friend of hers, like...like you. Just shove her off and tie her robe up."

"You fail at getting in my head. _I_ would shove her off and take pictures and then laugh at her for the rest of her life. And maybe try to initiate some morning sex." Santana nodded.

Rachel stared, owl-eyed. "But she's your friend."

"She's my hot friend. And it's not like we haven't done it before."

Rachel's cheeks went bright red, and Santana smirked as she took out a big bite of her sandwich. Rachel had completely forgotten about buttering the toast. A splotch of it slid off the knife she held aloft and hit the floor.

"Shit! I mean!" Rachel's ears flamed and she rushed to get a paper towel. "I-I forgot you two…" She stopped herself.

"Had sex? Made the beast with two backs? Humped? Performed cunnilingus?"

"_Santana_!"

Santana grinned. "It was good, just in case you're wondering."

"I don't want to know!" Rachel practically flew to the trash can, waving her hands wildly.

"She's really flexible. She got her legs like, all the way up to - "

"LALALALALA!" Rachel was plugging her ears, and Santana cackled madly.

It wasn't long after all that ruckus that Kurt and Quinn each made their sleepy ways out of their rooms. Quinn, unfortunately, had her robe done up properly now, but Rachel still went even redder the moment she spied the sniffling, sleepy mess of a blonde.

"What the hell is wrong with you two? It is seven in the morning," Kurt was groaning. "On _Saturday_."

Santana rolled her eyes. "Suck it up, princess."

He only glared briefly before glancing over the counters. "No pancakes or French toast or waffles or - "

"Quinn is sick, so only toast today," Rachel interjected. "Speaking of which, what are you doing _up_? You look _miserable_!"

She rushed to Quinn's side, feeling her forehead, and Quinn shrugged, snuffing. If it hadn't been so damn precious and Quinn didn't really look so sick, Santana would've rolled her eyes. Instead she picked up the DayQuil box and plate of toast and glass of water to bring over to the little lovebirds, while Rachel ushered Quinn back to bed - they all ignored Kurt's, "What about me?"

"I just...wanted to see what was going on," Quinn sniffled as Rachel tucked her in under the covers, all the way up to her shoulders.

Santana offered up the food, pills, and water to Rachel, who hurriedly took them and popped out a couple of the orange pills for Quinn to take, helping her sit up to do so.

"Well, you need to rest today. I can't believe the NyQuil and th-the VapoRub didn't do _anything_," Rachel sighed.

"They did." Quinn swallowed. "I slept - I slept really good last night."

"I'm thinking that had nothing to do with pills or aloe," Santana commented, folding her arms with a smirk when Rachel shot her a glare.

"Can you keep your rude comments to yourself for once? Quinn is in no condition to banter with you and none of the rest of us want to hear it." Rachel sat on the edge of the bed, effectively dismissing Santana as she turned to lift a piece of toast to Quinn's mouth. "Here, have a little something."

"I'm not really hungry," Quinn mumbled, but nibbled at the edge anyway, reaching to take it from Rachel, but she refused to release it. Quinn snuffed. "I can hold a piece of toast."

"I know you _can_. I'm doing it for you anyway. More, you need something solid on your stomach. I'll heat you up some soup later," Rachel urged, smiling. "Chicken noodle."

Quinn nibbled again. "Mm, the height of sophistication in soups."

Rachel giggled. "Just eat."

Normally, Santana would have made some snide comment about how chicken noodle soup used to be considered an aphrodisiac. But Quinn truly didn't look up to bantering. In fact, she'd been reduced to 'really good' instead of her usual irritatingly grammatically correct 'well' and letting Rachel feed her toast. And probably spoon feed her soup later. Although as much as Santana hated to admit it...they were kind of cute.

Quinn, of course, was always pretty cute when she was sleepy or sick. She acted like a pouty little child and it was admittedly pretty adorable, but Rachel mother-henning her, hovering, feeding her, taking care of her so vigilantly. Even after a whole night of being torturously trapped under a mostly naked Quinn Fabray. Hell, the poor girl probably needed a date with Rosie Palms more than Kurt needed a nose job.

But she pushed that aside and took care of Quinn. And that was kind of cute.

And maybe, just maybe, Santana should break her promise and spill the beans about Rachel liking - loving Quinn. That would be her usual way, but Rachel had kept her promise and hadn't even hummed that damn song for the last three days. Blissful three days. Santana was actually beginning the forget the verses. The chorus was still annoyingly clear to her, but it was a start.

But not being allowed to tell Quinn didn't mean Santana couldn't...help out some other way, did it?


	4. You Are My Sunshine

**You Are My Sunshine**

Rachel spent the entirety of Saturday taking care of Quinn. After Santana left for work, it was just the two of them - Kurt had either left or gone back to bed - so Rachel was left to throw away plates of toast or crackers, used tissues, empty pill packets, and to refill Quinn's water each time she drained it. And she was ridiculously dehydrated, due in no small part, Rachel was sure, to her small but noticeable fever.

She had taken her temperature with the ear thermometer first thing, finding Quinn was close to one degree over normal, but as per usual, insisted she was fine and didn't need to go to the hospital. Rachel only backed down when she had to - reluctantly - concede that the doctor wouldn't be impressed by an 'almost one degree high' fever. She grew to regret that decision throughout the day, watching Quinn in her misery.

She seemed to go through hot and cold spells, sometimes shivering in her blankets and burrowing deep under them and sometimes tossing them aside in a sweat. And the sniffling was nonstop. She was forced to breathe through her mouth at most times, and her nose was bright red from constant tissuing. The toast, at least, had settled well on her stomach, and Rachel felt safe in bringing her crackers to snack on and eventually a bowl of chicken noodle, which she spoon fed to Quinn to ensure she didn't eat too fast or burn her tongue, blowing on each spoonful for her.

It was the least she could do, consider how her poor Quinn was suffering. Of course, Quinn didn't seem to think she was suffering at all, several times getting up to go get her own water or crackers so that Rachel had to usher her back into bed and under the covers. This led to Quinn eventually admitting she just had to use the bathroom, and Rachel blushed and let her go - but made sure that was _all_ she snuck off to do.

Between runs to the kitchen or bathroom, Rachel kept a cold compress to Quinn's forehead and snuggled up to her side to help her with a book of crossword puzzles, to keep her mind occupied - since she refused to sleep. It felt terribly domestic, under Quinn's arm and the blankets, filling in words together, and that only added to the bittersweetness of the entire day.

Because as much as Rachel loved the opportunity to take care of Quinn, she hated to see her in such discomfort. And as much as she loved being domestic with Quinn, it was still a form of torture to do so and not be allowed to kiss her all over. The way she'd wanted to the previous night, when Quinn was on top of her, keeping her deliciously warm - but oh-so _hot_ when she was _naked_. Rachel couldn't imagine anything more horrible than going through that again, being able to hug onto Quinn's body while she curled on top of her, rubbing up and down the soft fabric of the bathrobe, but unable to do anything else. Not even push her off, because she looked so comfortable - and Rachel didn't really want her to go away.

It was the same that evening, after Santana had returned with extra food from the restaurant and Quinn took over her own soup-eating while Rachel chowed down - the first thing _she_ had eaten all day, she realized. After they'd discarded plates and bowls and utensils, Rachel grabbed the ear thermometer again and popped up on her knees next to Quinn, only to notice she was rather adamantly keeping her breath held. She couldn't help but giggle, despite the furrowed blonde brow.

"What are you doing?" She poked at Quinn's side with her free hand, and the air came rushing out abruptly.

She didn't seem to mind, chuckling in explanation, "Trying not to breathe on you. It's not going so good."

Rachel giggled again, kissing Quinn's cheek before she could think better of it. "You're so sweet to me. Don't worry. I refuse to get sick."

The thermometer beeped and she took it out, frowning as she examined.

"Any better?"

"The same." Rachel sighed, rubbing the cold compress over the back of Quinn's neck - she closed her eyes in enjoyment. "You may not be able to go to class on Monday."

"It's only Saturday," Quinn murmured. "I could get better tomorrow. And anyway, I have to go. Exams."

"How are you supposed to test like this? Your energy needs to go to getting better, and if I have to write a letter to the president explaining just that so you can take your exams when you are at full capacity, I will." She harumphed, for emphasis.

Quinn side-eyed her, smirking. "The president?"

"Of Yale," she clarified, flushing.

"Uh huh."

Quinn's smirk didn't fade, though her eyes closed again while Rachel swept the compress around her neck and chest. She tried not to be reminded of the previous night, of rubbing over Quinn's porcelain skin with her bare hand. She tried not to accidentally on purpose drop the compress so she could do just that again, compromising by adjusting her grip, so that her thumb slid against all that smooth skin. Horribly hot skin - Rachel's lips dropped, and she sighed absently, "My poor Quinn."

In the next moment, Quinn was readjusting, resting her head against Rachel's chest. Soft, hot breaths puffed out against Rachel's shirt, and she wrapped her arms fully around Quinn's shoulders, keeping the compress against the back of her neck. It seemed to do the most good there. With her other hand, she petted blonde hair, which had lost some of its silky feeling with sickness, but felt no less pleasant to Rachel.

"Your heart's like...Blitzkrieg Bop," Quinn snuffed, half-chuckling. Her fingers, once in her lap, traveled up to tap out over Rachel's chest, demonstrating. "Bada-bada, bada-bada, ba ba."

Rachel giggled in spite of herself, in spite of the heat rushing up from her neck. "It's your fault."

"Oh?" Quinn nuzzled into her neck, nose nudging.

She swallowed, taking a moment to regain her teasing tone. "Mmhm. You're terrifying."

Quinn scoffed - and coughed into her hand, turning away to do so. Rachel patted her back in apology, but Quinn only chuckled and smiled before she rocked herself back into her arms, this time looping her own around Rachel's waist.

"Mm. I think it's because...you've got an exciting song in your head. We should calm it down." Her fingers were looping in circles on the small of Rachel's back.

She shivered, whispering, "And how do we do that?"

"You should sing a calm song," Quinn mumbled. She was half-asleep; Rachel had grown to recognize it. "A sweet one."

She smiled, stroking blonde hair. "Okay…"

She thought for a moment, just swaying Quinn slowly back and forth to get into a rhythm of sorts. Something to work with before she started singing. And then it occurred to her, something Santana had mentioned the day she told Rachel what she should've known all along. She smiled to herself. Why not?

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

Quinn giggled against her chest, squeezing when she didn't go on. Rachel smiled.

_You make me happy, when skies are grey_

_You'll never know, dear, how much I love you_

_Please don't take my sunshine away_

Rachel tilted her head, enough to peer at Quinn's face. Her eyes were closed, mouth open for breaths, puffing steadily out, but she wasn't asleep yet. She squeezed her arms around Rachel again and nuzzled her neck, mumbling something close to, "Keep going."

_I'll always love you and make you happy_

_If you will only say the same_

She paused, kissing the top of Quinn's head for a long, lingering moment, before she decided to tweak it a bit.

_And if you leave me, to love another_

_Please don't take it all away_

This time, when Rachel peered at Quinn, she was fast asleep.


	5. Step 1

**Step 1**

Quinn appeared to be feeling much better by Sunday morning, but you wouldn't have known from how Rachel acted. She hovered around her like she was on her death bed, running to get anything she needed, wrapping blankets around her, feeding her… It was enough to make a woman want to get sick, just to get that kind of TLC.

Not that Santana wanted TLC from Rachel, or that Rachel would be as attentive to her as she was to Quinn. But it was still cute to watch.

Speaking of which, Santana had to get going on her plan to help them out on their communication issues. She'd thought it over while she was at work the day before and the first obvious step was to remove the hypotenuse. Not herself, of course - she had to be there to supervise things and edge them in the right direction, but Kurt was a problem. He was a distraction for Rachel, a way to avoid Quinn and her feelings whenever they made an unwelcome appearance, and while Santana could get him in on it, she preferred to work alone.

So while they were all sitting around the table at lunch, eating leftover pancakes from the huge batch Rachel had made - pretty much just for Quinn, although Santana wasn't sure how Rachel expected that tiny body to fit all those pancakes. Still, that meant extras for Santana - and Kurt - so she didn't complain.

"So what's everyone's plans after exams?"

Rachel swallowed down a bite before offering one to Quinn. "I'm not sure, actually. I've been going back and forth about going back to spend some time with my fathers or staying here. It would probably be more beneficial to see if I can get any parts in any community productions or the like."

"And it's not like you can't go back for a weekend," Santana put in.

Rachel paused, but nodded. "Right, I can always visit like I do during the semester."

"Quinn, what about you?"

Quinn shrugged her shoulders, heaving the mass of blankets up and down. "I lined up two summer classes, so I'll probably head back up to New Haven."

Santana frowned with Rachel. "How long are the classes?"

"It's like three weeks in July?"

"Oh. So why not just stay here?"

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I'll just continue treading on you guys' space and time and Rachel's bed and - hey, why don't I just move in here, while I'm at it?"

Rachel perked up way too much at that. Santana almost rolled her eyes, but she had a mission.

"Why not? At least for the summer, it makes sense. Rachel and I will be here, and we're going to need a mediator, let's just be honest."

"Hey, what about me?" Kurt cut in around a mouthful of pancake.

Santana narrowed her eyes on him. "You're planning on staying?"

"Well...I don't know."

"Well, make up your mind. Lima or New York. Blaine or a bunch of lesbians. Time with Daddy or time with me." She ratcheted it up to a glare.

Kurt gulped down his pancake. "I guess I could spend some time back in the hometown."

"Sure, you could!" Santana turned back to Quinn. "So stay here for the summer. I'm sure Rachel doesn't mind sharing with you _too_ much."

Quinn's eyebrows met again. "Well, if Kurt's not here, can't I just - "

"I don't mind at all!" Rachel interjected so brightly Santana almost spat out her pancake. "I mean, it's been really lovely having you here, Quinn, and unlike _some_ people, you don't kick or-or snore and you've been so considerate… You're an excellent roommate and I-we would love it if you would stay with us this summer." She smiled, touching Quinn's arm. "It could be a lot of fun, right?"

"Of course, we always have fun." Quinn maneuvered a hand from her blanket to take Rachel's. "But I'm sure you'd feel better having your bed to yourself again, and if Kurt's - "

"Well, the thing is, Kurt doesn't really like people in his space. He's a little touchy about that," Rachel blurted, and Santana smirked, sitting back.

"I am?" Kurt chirped up.

Santana pushed another plate of pancakes at him.

Quinn looked between them all before she said, "Okay…"

Rachel grinned immediately. "Does that mean you'll stay?"

"Yeah, I guess it does." She smiled, and Rachel squealed.

Santana smirked. Perfect.


End file.
